The Hostility of Ice
by Voca
Summary: This is Lily Evans. This is Bellatrix Black. This is a potion of utter madness with a side-order of lust.


_A/N;: If slash is not your personal brand of vodka, please do not hesitate to click the back button._

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**the hostility of ice**

. … .

Nobody said it would be easy, but maybe it's better that way.

. … .

She is staring out the window of a hidden alcove—hidden from the hall but not from the staircase, and her green eyes are lazily scanning the grounds below. She has a view of the grounds—the forest that students are forbidden to enter and the funny little hut owned by the gamekeeper that tries to be friends to everyone. And then she closes her eyes and turns away, huddling closer against the stone wall and trying to make herself relax. Worrying about her mum and dad—and 'Tuney, too—was not good for her studies, just like her studies were not good for Petunia—and her parents, too, never mind that her parents were oh so very proud. Her studies weren't important and they couldn't help because they were—what was that word again? oh—Muggles.

She is trying to relax with every nerve, every fiber, every molecule of her body, and it really isn't working because now she is starting to think that something is watching here—something not natural, something that isn't _supposed_ to be looking at her. Her eyes open in half of a moment to scan the corridor and the stairwell. She can't see anything—maybe it had been a daydream—or maybe some airborne paranoia had interrupted her meditation. That was it—because there is no one in the stairwell or the corridor now.

She closes her eyes again to begin her meditation—breathe: _in through the nose_. breathe: _out through the mouth._ pause. _one breath. now two. _good—and she does not see the brunette slinking down the staircase, a predatory smirk gracing her full red lips. The brunette at the moment is unimportant; what _really_ matters is that Lily Evans cannot relax any more—her initial paranoia increases and strengthens, leaving her anxious and shaking. Meditation does not help this at all—and neither does the sleep she cannot retain. Lily knows that she is marked prey now (but only subconsciously; Lily really doesn't think that much about predators and prey) and that bothers her internally. She cannot let her life be out-of-control.

. … .

Bellatrix Black first noticed Lily Evans in the middle of their fifth year. She was fifteen and… she didn't really care about the Mudblood's age, she was either fifteen as well or else very, very close to it. _That Mudblood_, that filthy girl who was soiling the very ground she walked on and being stalked perpetually by that idiot _Potter_ and his lackeys—including her deserting cousin Sirius—didn't deserve to have her attention. But—what struck her as odd—at the time, because she was staring at the fiery-haired girl from the Slytherin table, trying to avoid her gaze being followed by anyone attending the Slytherin or Gryffindor divide of the Great Hall. Such things are improper, and aristocratic Bellatrix Black was not to be seen gawking at a Mudblood Gryffindor—no matter how lavish she was/is, even in her rather bulky/chaste robes.

. … .

Bellatrix shakes the memories of the train that is her thoughts, then notices the redhead stir from her sitting place and ducks down, slipping silently onto her knees on the cold stone of the staircase, with the banister providing her sufficient cover. Looking through a gap in the thick columns, she waits until the girl closes her eyes again, and stands (with difficulty—it is hard to stay still and balance in strange positions.) Turning swiftly, she moves deftly down the hall to catch another staircase (that leads to the dungeons and the solitude of the Slytherin common room) with her attributed madness only slightly noticeable in her eyes—but only when you knew just how to look and how to notice.

Bellatrix only thinks of one thing when she walks back to her room—the three girls whose name she has forgotten long since their third year still are lingering in the common room. This thing is nothing more than how much she wants the red haired Mudblood she would probably take but would never really be able to love (but nobody ever said this would be easy, and Bellatrix is madmadmad in lust) and maybe it would be better off that way because it is well known that she doesn't often find herself attracted to anyone in particular, but when she does it's like a house on fire, and she wantswantswants with a passion that no one could ever stand—but that passion is as twisted and warped and sinister as her own mind, which is still slightly less tangled than it would be if she didn't use the excuse of complete and utter _madness_ to justify her means. The darkness of greed and the darkness of lust and the darkness of _"it's just a game lovely but i must always win"_ is what keeps Bellatrix Black sane (with difficulty—it is hard to stay…)

. … .

Lily Evans first notices Bellatrix Black in the beginning of their sixth year—and quite on accident. It happened because she has an uncanny habit of staying after class during Slughorn's potions class, of which she has always had an odd aptitude. On this particular day, she is planning to ask for help with the midterm assignment but instead is being introduced to an enchantingintoxicatingbeautifulBellatrix Black. She didn't exactly plan on smiling the way she did (an over-enthusiastic smile that emphasized the blush on her cheeks—wait—why is she blushing—? and over a girl—?) and she didn't mean to trip over her own feet on the way out of the classroom, repeating a new-found mantra of "Oh, it was nothing, Professor, nothing at all," and her embarrassment spills onto the floor with her satchel as she trips and falls, landing on knees and braced by hands. She stumbles back up to her feet quickly quickly quickly, hoping that the dark beauty behind her isn't scoffing or laughing, and hoping even more that Horace Slughorn doesn't make a fuss over the trip—because it was just a trip, and nothing more.

"Evans." The girl has a voice like honey and oil, a lackluster poison that is tempting despite its dull cover—but Bellatrix is anything but dull. _Bellatrix Black_. Lily can't help but repeat the name over again again again, because it just rolls so well in her mind, and she can't help but think—blushing, of course—that it would sound so much sweeter coming out of her mouth. For the moment their eyes meet, Lily thinks she wants to kiss her, here and now—and then stops thinking abruptly, because trying to remember how to meditate. She most definitely did _not_ just think that. She needs to clear her mind and forget about whatever feelings she thinks she has for Bellatrix Black—because for some reason Lily is absolutely certain relationships like that are as looked down upon by wizards as they are by Muggles. So there's no point in even _suggesting_ something like that—and it's not like the pure-blooded Slytherin would want anything to do with a Muggle-borns like Lily Evans anyway.

Bellatrix herself is slightly shocked at herself for saying something—and her mind spins inward on itself to think of something else to say that isn't completely self-defecating and illogical (even though everything is already completely illogical in Bellatrix's mind.) "Watch your step," she said quickly, gazing at the girl through solemn, half-lidded eyes for the millionth time, only this time it's face to face and _Lily is looking at her this time, so it's all so so so much better than it was this morning at breakfast._

"Ah…" Lily's breath freezes in her throat, which is rapidly forming a lump, quicker than one can say _petrificus_. "Yeah." She smiles desperately, afraid to break her gaze with the other girl because looking into her eyes just feels so _right_. She wants to kiss Bellatrix and feel the other girl's reaction and is close enough to do it—and then she blinks and regains her composure, turning away from Bellatrix's mind games (because _it's just a game, lovely, but i must always win_) and starts on her way, remembering to breathe: _in through the nose_; again: _out through the mouth._ Pause. _One breath. Now two. _Good.

. … .

It is now the middle of October. Lily Evans has not allowed nary a thought of Bellatrix Black to cross her mind—she has gone through complete and utter refusal, not even daring to glance over at the Slytherin tables to try to smile at Severus (but Severus would never understand) because she fears seeing the brunette who possesses a mad beauty so powerful as to forcibly _put thoughts in Lily's mind_—because Lily is too innocent and too pure and too a million other things to think that way (—wait—why is she blushing? and over a girl—?)

It is now the middle of October. It has almost been a year since the day that Bellatrix Black first looked and coveted and _noticed_ her fiery-haired victim, and the looking and coveting and _noticing_ has been happening far too frequently for the girl's liking. Something certainly must be done about this, because it is against Bellatrix's principles (_it's all a game, lovely_) to want something so much and not be able to have it.

Lily Evans runs into Bellatrix Black again, (quite on accident but this time quite literally in the corridor) and stumbles backwards, staring at a patch of dirt on her shoe that is now rather interesting; she's willing to look at anything except Bellatrix—she simply can't look or think or breathe because any look or thought or breath would give away the flying maelstrom of emotion building in her throat.

"Evans." Bellatrix breathes, her voice coming out softer and more sane than it would normally (because enchantingintoxicatingbeautiful Bellatrix Black is madmadmad in lust.) Her tone _bothers_ Lily to no end because she had been expecting something harsher and more along the lines of _"Mudblood, watch where you're going"_ and she needsneedsneeds to hear that because if she doesn't she'll be inclined to either kiss the brunette or else vomit from sheer longing. "Watch your step," she says, a wide smirk on her face, and she seems unaware that those are the same words she said when Lily tripped on the way out Slughorn's office, because she is completely lost and _Lily is looking at her_ (unwillingly)_ this time, so it's all so so so much better than it was this morning at breakfast_—

Lily looks away as quickly as she glances into Bellatrix's eyes—and then finds herself looking again. She blinks, staring deeper until she can't hear anything or see anything else—her peripheral vision fades away to grey masses and all that is left is Bellatrix's beautiful dark beauty and then Bellatrix laughs. She laughs and it sounds so crystal clear while everything else is only blurred out static and Lily shakes her head, trying to rid of the suffocating/intoxicating greyness/beauty.

Then she says: "What?"

Bellatrix just smiles (madmadmad) knowingly. "What are you doing later?" she asks—she can ask something like that so bluntly simply because _it's just a game, lovely_ _(it's just a game and i must always win.)_

Lily lets out a string of random gibberish, then composes herself again and says, "Nothing." And she's blushing, again—(why is she blushing? and over a girl—?) and she turns slightly away from Bellatrix, letting a curtain of red hair hide her face just until the flush fades—which isn't very long. She looks at her hair instead of Bellatrix and then in a moment she is fine—but makes the mistake of looking again and fights the urge to blush or throw up—both of which she's starting to think she needs to do immediately. Whatever gave Bellatrix a reason to ask that anyway? _She's _in Slytherin and Lily is in Gryffindor and—(no one said this would be easy, but maybe it's better that way.)

"…Hn. Are you sure you want to be doing nothing? That sounds… unimportant." Long elegant fingers reach out and pull the curtain of red hair away from the pale, crystal beauty before her. Bellatrix smiles invitingly; she has this way of speaking that can make Lily feel like everything she's doing is wrong, and she has this way of asking questions that makes Lily feel obligated to do what she says. But maybe it's better that way.

. … .

The next night was the beginning of heartache and the end of acceptance.

It is evening, and Lily is meditating (trying to clear her heart and her mind and her soul and regain her strength) in the hidden alcove between the hall to the Fat Lady's portrait and the only staircase that would (if it wanted to) lead to the Divination room—at least, to the ladder that in turn went up to the room. This place is comfortable and familiar and warm to Lily, despite the cold stone that made up the castle. Her eyes are closed, and her then lips set in a determined line—and she is trying not to think about anything, especially not Bellatrix.

Said distraction is walking down the corridor, when she hears someone breathing. She can't place where the sound is coming from, until she sees the alcove. Red hair means one thing—Lily Evans. She walks deftly, slowly, and silentlysilentlysilently closer to the alcove, and stops right in the middle of the hallway, watching Lily—the rise and fall of her chest as she breaths deeply, the way her lips move ever so slightly when she does as if she is naming the breaths with numbers. Her eyes flutter open for half a moment and then close again. Sixty seconds of silence is maddening so she speaks: "Are you finished doing nothing, Evans?"

Lily's attempt at meditation breaks wide open and her body is jolted with shock (normal eyes can't see that but remember this remember that Bellatrix's eyes are not normal) and she stares up at Bellatrix with her mouth still slightly open—she had been right in between her fifty-third and fifty-second breath (or was it the other way around—?) She says nothing, but remembers that she has not yet had a chance to catch her breath and does so in a gulp. "I'm not doing… nothing…" she manages to spek somewhat calmly, as if nothing about Bellatrix's proximity bothered her, but then the word_'nothing'_ came out as a whimper. Her attempt at staying calm has failed, and Lily is now marked prey.

"You are sitting here in a _corner_ where no one can see you. That seems a lot like nothing to me." The aristocrat speaks loftily, with a wicked glint in her eyes that means she has complete control over the situation (that's a relative term—control—that it can be easily broken with one move in the right direction, and strengthened tenfold with a mood towards the wrong—but it should be noted that the right direction is towards the darkness—that is what Bellatrix wants. complete and utter darkness.)

"Does it matter?" Lily asks in a hushed voice, because _nothing_ is another relative term.

"Not really." Bellatrix slides even further into the alcove and kneels down next to Lily, a pleasant (_it's just a game, lovely, and i must win_) smirk on her face. "But are you quite finished?"

Lilly nods quickly, a lump forming in her throat. "Yes," she whimpers out, eyes wide. _Now _there was absobloodylutely no chance of her pretending that Bellatrix had no effect on her—because there is only just enough room in the alcove for two people to sit next to each other, and Bellatrix was almost on top of her, impossible close and—Lily watches the full lips right in front of her face—mouth—part just slightly and her thoughts stop dead in their tracks. "Bella—"

Bellatrix cuts her off. "Don't talk." she says sharply, eyes narrowing as she leans down and—

—her kisses make up for her sharp tone and harsh words. Lily lets herself fall backwards against the wall (this is better than meditation, but difficult—it is hard to stay still and balance in strange positions) her eyes close and she feels nothing at all except Bellatrix's mouth on hers.

Bellatrix pulls back barely, remaining just close enough for Lily to kiss her but their lips still don't touch, and her smirk resumes its designated place. The redhead gasps something noncommittal and incoherent and Bellatrix kisses her again, her teeth grazing and then ultimately biting into Lily's lower lip—she doesn't intend it to hurt, and so it doesn't. It's just an extremely pleasurable—honestly, more pleasure than pain and something that Lily can't help but want more of.

Lily quickly finds herself lost—but quickly regains her long-lost composure and takes deep, gulping breaths; but when her eyes finally open, she realizes what had roused her: Bellatrix had left.

. … .

It has been three months since Bellatrix Black first kissed Lily Evans—and since then, Lily is often seen with lips swollen from kisses and a reputable display of cuts and bruises hidden under her robes. The first (and last) time they fuck, however—that is a different story. It goes like this:

Bellatrix backs Lily into a wall and kisses once (sensuous and inviting and enchantingintoxicatingbeautiful—complete and utter darkness) before turning and walking gracefully down the hall to a long-abandoned classroom. She wants and expects and silently orders Lily to follow (because Lily is just like that—control is just a relative term.) Bellatrix smirks and waits just beyond the door until Lily comes in. The door shuts with a satisfying _schnik_.

Lily blinks her wide green eyes and watches Bellatrix warily. She isn't sure what to expect and her not-girlfriend (she doesnotwillnot_cannot_ think the word 'girlfriend', because that implies the word 'lesbian' and Lily doesnotwillnot_cannot_ think of herself like that—she _cannot_ sink that low) most likely can see how nervous she is. She waits and stares at Bellatrix in expectant silence.

Bellatrix reaches out and pulls Lily against her roughly, and they kiss like—

—like they have never kissed before. It is heated and passionate, desperate and frantic, full of lust and desire and want and Lily feels something that she has never felt before. There is a strange sort of warmth in her stomach and an odd feeling of wetness between her legs and all she can think of is enchantingintoxicatingbeautiful Bellatrix Black—and Lily doesn't even think about hesitating when Bellatrix begins to unbutton her robes. Her long-fingered hands delve into the rough fabric, and slide gingerly underneath Lily's pleated skirt.

Lily's mouth opens slightly and she begins to protest when she feels Bellatrix's thumb press against the faded pink cotton of her panties—her green eyes widen and her mouth drops open, only to be filled by passionate, lustful kisses; and then there is Bellatrix's tongue and—it's so _wet_ and so _strong_ and—"Bellatrix…" she gasps against the brunette's lips, her head tilting back and hitting the wall behind her with a crunching _thud_. Her neck is properly exposed by this and Bellatrix kisses it, softly at first, and then allows herself to get slightly more rough, sucking and running her teeth along the contours of Lily's throat and biting on the jaw line—_that tender spot, _here_, right below your ear… _

Bellatrix listens as Lily's ragged gasps turn to moans, and she presses against the other girl against the wall, becoming a tangle of bodies and limbs. Bellatrix has her knee pressing against the wall between Lily's legs; her left hand is braced against the wall and her other hand slides slowlyslowlyslowly up Lily's side, her sharp nails working the buttons the white dress shirt and pressing against the redhead's breasts before pulling the nude-colored bra down in such a way as to unclasp it. Her mouth trails down Lily's neck and over the collarbones, ultimately reaching her nipple. She smirks as she feels rather than hears Lily's throaty moan (this is better than meditation—who needs to forget when one can indulge?)

Lily's eyes are quite tightly closed when she first feels something close to fireworks in her abdomen—and then open quite wide when she feels Bellatrix's weight disappear. Blinking away the darkness and trying to focus on the silhouette through the gloom, she sees the Slytherin girl putting her want away and (gulp) undressing.

"Get on the bed." She commands as one of her hands leaves the other to fret over buttons in order to point at a now-configured bed. The hand lingers mid-air for a moment before throwing robe, shirt, and skirt to the ground with feverish haste. "_Now_."

Lily obeys instantly, standing next to the bed, hesitant to feel her own robes, shirt, and bra fall off with her movement (Bellatrix is just so good at what she does—who needs to forget when one can indulge?) and feels her cheeks flush. Then Bellatrix is there again, kissing her, sliding in between her legs. Lily opens her mouth and kisses the other girl back, almost begging, her fingers pressing and digging into Bellatrix's back. Lily lets out another moan when she feels Bellatrix's fingers slide inside her underwear, stroking and caressing and making the fireworks build to the point she feels she is about to burst.

Bellatrix gets rougher with her, and Lily cries out sharply, but that dies down to a low moan as those fingers slip in and out of her, quickly pushing her to climax, and—

Lily feels better than she ever believed to be possible— when she feels Bellatrix's weight lift off her she tries to ignore the sticky, warm fluid running down her thighs. Her eyes are closed and she is trying to settle her breathing, and eventually picks herself up and re-dresses, watching her lover carefully before focusing again to button up her robe. When she looks up again, Bellatrix's gaze is cold and unsettled. A strange light is in her eyes as she speaks:

She says, "This can't go on anymore."

Lily thinks, _Wait—what?_

She says, "I don't need you anymore."

Lily thinks, _I don't understand you._

She says, "You've stopped fighting back—and the game is too boring for me."

Lily thinks, _You can't leave me!_

She says, "You actually thought I loved you?"

Lily thinks, _No… I know you didn't love me._

She says, "Goodbye. It was fun—until it wasn't."

Lily wants to claw Bellatrix's prideful little smirk off her face. Lily wants to scream and cry and run to Severus and beg him to make everything better. Lily wants—Bellatrix.

Nobody said this would be easy—but maybe it's better for them to be apart. Maybe it's better.


End file.
